"More economy!" put in Peter.

"Yes, I guess you have learned already that we do not waste much here,"

grinned Stuart.

Peter nodded.

"Afterward," Stuart continued, "follow the many methods for getting certain varieties of finish on the leather. Here, for instance, you will see men graining tan stock by working it by hand into tiny wrinkles; they use heavy pieces of cork with which they knead the material until the leather is checked in minute squares. It looks like an easy thing to do, but it isn't. It requires skilled workmen in order to get satisfactory results. Over here," and he beckoned to Peter, "men are making 'boarded calf' by beating and pounding it as you see, that they may get fine, soft stock. Here still others are gla.s.sing the leather and giving it a smooth surface by rubbing it with a heavy piece of gla.s.s."

"And what are those fellows over by the wall doing?" inquired Peter, pointing to a group of workmen who, with right leg naked, were standing in a row and rapidly drawing tan leather first over a wooden upright set in the floor, and then over their knee.

"Those," Stuart answered, "are knee-stakers. Strangely enough no machine has yet been invented which will give to certain kinds of leather the elasticity and softness which can be put into it by a man's stretching it over his bare knee. It is a curious way to earn one's living, isn't it? See how quickly they work and how strong they are. Just look how the muscles of their legs stand out!"

"I should say so," Peter answered. "Why, it almost seems as if they must have been track sprinters all their lives. They must be well paid."

"What they earn depends on how fast they work," Stuart said. "All this finishing is piece work. The more a man can do in an hour the higher he is paid. Almost all these fellows are skilled workmen who have been at just this task for a long time. They do it rapidly and well, and receive good wages."

Stuart walked on and Peter followed.

"Here is a machine that makes gun-metal finished leather for the uppers of black shoes; the leather is, as you see, put through a series of rollers where it is blacked, oiled, and ironed, and comes out with that dull surface."

"Are all these different kinds of leather really made from calfskins?"

asked Peter at last.

"Practically so--yes," replied Stuart. "Upper or dressed leather is made from large calfskins or else from kips. Kips, you know, are the skins of under-sized cows, oxen, horses, buffalo, walrus, and other such animals. These are tanned and sorted out in the beamhouse when wet. The thick ones are usually split thin by machinery and the two parts are finished separately. The part of the leather where the hair grew is the more valuable and is called the grain; the other part which was next to the animal is called the split. Remember those two terms--the grain and the split."

"I'll try my best," said Peter with a doubtful shake of his head. "I am dreadfully afraid, though, that I shall forget some of the things you have told me to-day."

"I don't expect you to remember all I've told you, Strong," laughed Stuart, good-naturedly. "Why, you would not be a human, breathing boy if you did. It has taken me a long time to learn the facts that I have been telling you. But do remember about the grain and the split; and while you are remembering that, try also to remember that a rough split is the cheapest leather made. Some heavy hides are split two, four, and even six times and are then sold. You can see this sort of leather up-stairs in the shipping-room of the other factory, and if I were you I would take the trouble to go up there some time and look at it. You may be interested, too, to know----"

But what the interesting item was Peter never found out.

A boy, breathless from running, came rushing into the room.

"If you please, sir," he panted, "Mr. Bryant sent me to find Peter Strong! Young Jackson has been hurt. He slipped on the wet floor and the wheel of a heavy truck went over his ankle. Jackson says it is only a sprain, but Mr. Bryant thinks the bones are broken. They've telephoned for a doctor. Jackson is lying on the floor awful white and still, and he says he wants Peter Strong. Mr. Bryant told me to tell you to send him right away."

Peter needed no second bidding. Down the stairs he flew.

Only yesterday he had longed for a chance to prove his friendship for Nat. Now, all unsolicited, the opportunity had come.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VI

TWO PETERS AND WHICH WON

Aflutter with anxiety, Peter followed the messenger back to the beamhouse.

Of all people why should this calamity come to Jackson? In addition to the suffering that must of necessity accompany such a disaster Peter reflected, as he went along, that Nat could ill afford to lose his wages and incur the expense of doctor's bills. Poor Nat! It seemed as if he had none of the good luck he deserved--only disappointment and misfortune.

Peter found his chum stretched on the floor in a dark little entry adjoining the workroom, with Bryant keeping guard.

"I am down and out this time, no mistake, Pete!" called Nat with a rather dubious attempt to be cheerful. "You see what happens when you go off into another department and leave me. I was all right while you were here."

Peter knelt beside him.

"I'm mighty sorry, old chap," he said. "Does it hurt much?"

As Jackson tried to turn, his lips whitened with pain.

"Well, rather! I guess, though, I'll be all right in a few days. It's only a sprain."

As Peter glanced questioningly at Bryant, who was standing in the shadow, the older man shook his head and put his finger to his lips.

"Well, anyway, Nat," answered Peter, trying to feign a gaiety he did not feel, "you will at least get a vacation. I told you only the other day you needed one."

"I don't need it any more than you do, Peter. Besides I can't stop work, no matter what happens. What would become of my mother, and who would pay our rent if my money stopped coming in? No sir-e-e! I shall get this foot bandaged up and be back at the tannery to-morrow. The doctor can fix it so I can keep at work, can't he, Mr. Bryant?"

"I hope so, Jackson," replied Bryant, kindly. "We'll see when he comes."

But the doctor was far less optimistic. He examined the ankle, p.r.o.nounced it fractured, and ordered Nat to the hospital where an X-ray could be taken before the bones were set.

Nat, who had endured the pain like a Spartan, burst into tears.

"What will become of us--of my mother, Peter?" he moaned.

"Now don't you get all fussed up, Nat," said Peter soothingly. "Leave things to me. I'll take care of your mother and attend to the house rent. I have plenty of money. You know I have been saving it up ever since I came here."

"Oh, but Peter--I couldn't think of taking your money!" Nat protested.

"Stuff! Of course you can take it! I should like to know whose money you would take if not mine. Anyway you can't help yourself. I have you in my power now and you've got to do just as I say."

"But I don't see how I can ever pay it back, Peter."

"No matter."

"It does matter."

"Well, well! We will settle all that later. Don't worry about it. I am only too thankful that I have the money to help you out," was Peter's earnest response. "I'd be a great kind of a chum if I didn't stick by you when you are in a hole like this. You'd do the same for me."

"You bet I would!"

"Of course! Well, what's the difference?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to take you at your word, Peter," agreed Nat reluctantly, after an interval of reflection. "I do not just see what else I can do at present."